He waved a cordial goodbye. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. Even in her own sorry skin-and-bones state of wraithlike pallor and gray under eye circles she was drawing unwanted attention from would-be admirers. “I’d sooner condemn you to Hell. The last that is known of Monsieur Charvill is when he departed the Valade estate. To-night the subtle suggestiveness of those few daring lines, fascinating in their very simplicity, the head thrown back, the half-closed eyes—the inner meaning of the great artist seemed to come to him with a rush. Then she dropped the curtain and stepped back into the room. Hang the wench! Roding was right. " "Piano-player? Do you mean someone who plays for you?" "No, no; one of those mechanical things you play with your feet. His attention drawn, the captain was easily able to make out the pretty features under the feathered hat, and the same dark riding habit the fugitive had worn on that first occasion at Remenham House. Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her.
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